Storytelling
by Silamy
Summary: Glimpses of a future world, through the eyes and words of storytelling auror, Nymphadora Tonks. Probably eventual NTRL.
1. Chapter 1

AN: If there are any errors in this story, or anything in particular you do or don't like about it, please, let me know. I'm trying to improve as a writer, and feedback really helps with that.

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><p>On Christmas day, after the children and Mrs. Weasley had gone to bed, Remus, Tonks and Sirius were sitting together in the living room as the cousins made up for lost time. Remus had been quieter than usual since everyone had gotten back from St. Mungo's, and Sirius had been trying to think of ways to cheer him up, when suddenly the answer hit him. "Tonks, remember how you used to tell all of those crazy stories you'd make up?"<p>

"Yeah," Tonks said, "I remember. You'd usually laugh your head off at me –tell me that they were ridiculous or something like that. Not that they weren't-" she added quickly "-but it still wasn't a nice thing to tell a little kid."

He chuckled. "Well, some of them _were_ pretty strange, but what you seem to be forgetting is that I'd always listen to the whole thing."

"_You_ listened to the entirety of a small child's story?" Remus asked incredulously. "I find that somewhat hard to believe."

Sirius smirked. He'd thought that the mention of stories would intrigue his friend. "It had nothing to do with me, Remus. Tonks was an incredible storyteller when she was little. The stories themselves might not have made much sense, but she told them well, and she got better as she got older. Can you still manage that, Tonks?"

Tonks blinked at the sudden address, but recovered quickly. "I reckon I could come up with something. Got any requests?"

A wide grin broke out across Sirius's face. This was exactly what he'd been hoping for. "Let's hear one about where you think Remus'll be in a few years."

Remus winced and turned away. Seeing the werewolf in the hospital earlier had reminded him just how much they were shunned by society. He didn't want to hear a story about himself starving to death, or Tonks tell Sirius that there was no way she would waste her imagination on his pathetic animal of a friend. But after a few seconds went by without any sort of complaint from Tonks, he looked up in curiosity to find her studying him intently, taking in everything. Apparently satisfied, she nodded, and began speaking. She had a pleasant enough voice normally, but there was a deeper note of assurance in it now, and Remus let it wash over him, listening to the sound as much as the words.

"It's not Christmastime yet, but early winter. There's a neat little cottage, and on a clear day, the view from the windows must be stunning. Right now, there is nothing blooming in the flowerbeds or window boxes, but it's obvious by looking at them that they are carefully tended by someone who loves to do so. There's a large tree to one side of the house, currently bare of leaves, but there's a swing hanging low from one of the branches, and the rope scratchings where it's hanging from show that it's often used. Inside the house, a visitor is instantly drawn to a living room, where we hear a man's soft voice speaking, occasionally interrupted by the high pitched voice of excited children. Entering the room, however, one immediately notices that the walls are almost completely hidden by bookshelves, with the exception of a fireplace and two large windows. Right now, a fire is lit in the grate, and there's a screen up around it, making sure that no one goes too close by mistake. The mantelshelf is covered in pictures of the happy family living there. Looking more carefully at the books, you see that they're slightly out of order, and there's not a speck of dust anywhere on them. The lowest shelves contain mainly children's stories, both muggle and wizarding, and all of them are clearly read often. There's a large shelf underneath one of the windows holding fishtank, with various animals swimming around inside. In front of it, we see a slim, brown-haired man kneeling. There's a small boy standing on one side of him, another on his other side, stretched up on his toes, trying his best to see in, and a little girl on his shoulders. All three children are totally enraptured by whatever he is showing them, asking questions, and babbling excitedly in the case of the youngest. From another room, a woman's voice calls, asking a question; the two boys run to her, and the man stands up, still holding the little girl and follows them. As he walks out of the room, we see that the furniture is clean and in good condition, although clearly used often, and perhaps slightly mismatched, although it only lends to the friendly atmosphere. The hallway he walks down is well lit, and wide enough to be lined with pictures, some of them clearly drawn by the children, but displayed with as much care as the finest works of art. He gets to the kitchen, and carefully puts the little girl down in her chair. Her mother –the family resemblance is clear –hands her a cup of milk, and one of her brothers makes sure that she can reach the fresh cookies they've been eating. The two adults smile at each other over the children's heads. Her face is friendly, honest and welcoming, as is his, and both are clearly happy with their lives. Resting a hand on her belly which is just starting to curve with another child, he kisses her –the children find it disgusting and make gagging noises. He laughs at them, and ruffles their sons' hair while she kisses their daughter on the head, and they both sit down, occasionally reaching for some cookies, as the whole family laughs and chatters about nothing in particular. Eventually, the entire plate of cookies is eaten, and the children are yawning. She takes their daughter upstairs for a bath, while he works on a jigsaw puzzle with the boys. As soon as the little girl is clean, the father takes the middle child upstairs while the mother works with the other two children on that same puzzle. The oldest child can bathe himself now, and while he does, his parents help the two littlest brush their teeth. Eventually, all three children are clean, dry and in their pajamas, which means that it's story time. The oldest son sits down on his bed, between his parents, each of whom is holds one of his siblings in their lap. The father picks up the storybook from where he left it the night before, and begins to read, his soft, hoarse voice filling the room with a story of wonder. Soon enough, the two smallest children are asleep, and the oldest not that far behind. The mother nudges her husband, and he carefully marks the place. The smallest children are carried off to their respective beds and carefully tucked in with their bedtime kisses. The parents come back to their other son, smooth back his hair, and tuck him in too. They quietly walk out, and turn out the light as they go. The scene shifts, and we see the two adults together in the living room. She's playing a lullaby on the piano standing in the corner, while he watches her with a look of rapture. Several minutes later, she rises, and curls up next to him on the couch facing the fireplace. He slips his arm around her, as they watch the flames dance, neither needing to say a word."

Tonks took a drink from her glass and then gently put it down. Remus and Sirius both stared at her. _She really thinks that? She dreams that…for __me__? She thinks that I could have that –a family, a home …love? Is that possible? Something like that –that's what I've dreamed about for most of my life. Maybe-_

At that moment, Sirius broke in. "Tonks, that was _incredible,_" he said quietly, not wanting to break the spell her voice had cast. "I thought you were good when you were little, but _Merlin_, Tonks, that was amazing."

She grinned and looked down bashfully. At that moment, a clock struck, and she jumped up. "I didn't realize it was so late –I'd best be getting home. Merry Christmas, you two."

Without realizing it, Remus had also gotten to his feet. "Would you mind if I escorted you?" he asked her.

Tonks smiled at him. "I've got no objections –but I'm warning you, I'd planned to walk, not apparate. A bit of fresh air always helps me sleep."

Sirius broke in. "Funny, Andromeda used to say the same thing when she was younger. She always left her window open when she stayed here. Well, if you two are heading out, I'm going to bed. Good night and Merry Christmas." He walked out, quietly whistling _God Rest Ye Merrye Hippogriffs_.

Remus walked with Tonks in silence, his mind still reeling with the story she had woven. Finally, in the hallway outside her door, he asked her, "Really?" When she looked at him blankly, he mentally kicked himself and tried to explain. "The story –what you said earlier –all of that –did you mean it? Do you –can you really see me like that –with a family and everything?" He held his breath as he waited for her answer, praying that she wouldn't say it was a joke.

She smiled, but took in his hesitant, fearful expression, and it instantly faded. "Of course I did. Sirius asked me where I think you'll be in a few years, and that's what I told the two of you. I find it harder to picture you alone than to see you with a family. You just seem like one of those people who's meant to be around kids." She tilted her head to the side. "Why? I hope it didn't upset you…"

He felt a twinge at the sudden lack of confidence in her voice, and then it hit him. _Tonks didn't know_. She must have not recognized his name from the Daily Prophet article about his resignation. His heart sank, as he came to the conclusion that the only thing he could do was tell her himself, and watch as she backed away from him in fear. "Tonks –I'm a werewolf," he began, looking down to avoid the horror in her face. "We don't –people don't –we're not supposed to have families."

_What? She –she didn't run. She's still here. How –why –is she not going to retract the story? That's impossible. But … she's here. She's not running, and she's not attacking me. Could she…_

"Remus John Lupin. I never thought that you'd be the sort to bow to societal prejudices." He looked up and met her glare, startled by the vehemence of her tone. "I know that you're a werewolf. I know what that entails. I knew all of that _before_ we met. You're kinda famous, y'know." She gave him a tentative smile at that, as though unsure if she was crossing the line. "And that family in the story? Yes, that's you, with a pregnant wife who loves you as much as you love her and three intelligent, curious children. And all of them know the truth, and it doesn't bother any of them. Why should it? You're a caring, compassionate, brilliant, trustworthy man, and a talented wizard. Alright, twelve or thirteen nights a year you're fuzzy for a few hours. So what? You're still yourself the rest of the time. Yes, some werewolves are monsters. But so are some people. We're not fighting this war against people like you who should be off teaching somewhere; we're fighting it against people like Bellatrix Lestrange who tortured a baby's family into insanity for absolutely no reason. I meant every word of that story, and anyone who's met you would agree with me."

He carefully searched her face, looking for some sign that she was lying. He couldn't find any. "You –you really mean that? You trust me? Even knowing that I'm –that I'm not -"

She cut him off. "Remus, I know what it's like to not be trusted for a part of yourself you can't help. I know what it's like to be called freak, to hear the whispers, the rumors…" her voice trailed off, but then grew stronger. "Yes, I trust you. And it's not just because Dumbledore and Mad-Eye do." She noticed his look of shock. "Yeah, Mad-Eye Moody, the master of paranoia, feels safe –or as safe as he's capable of feeling, at any rate –with you at his back. You're a good person, Remus Lupin. You've just got a long-term illness."

They stood there in silence for a few minutes, watching each other. "Tonks?" Remus asked hesitantly, "Thank you. For… everything. Nobody's ever told me anything that wonderful. It's got to be one of the best presents anyone's ever given me –hope for a future and an affirmation of trust."

"It's no trouble at all. That's what friends are for, right? Telling you the truth –no matter how much you don't believe it or want to hear it."

He felt a laugh bubbling up inside his throat. "I suppose you're right. Merry Christmas, _Nymphadora_." Chuckling at the brief glimpse he had of her glare, he apparated back to Grimmauld place before she could hex him. _A very merry Christmas indeed_.


	2. Chapter 2

Several days later, Tonks and Sirius were chatting together after an Order meeting. He was telling her about some of the pranks he'd been responsible for at school, and she was telling sharing stories from her time as an auror and auror-in-training.

The clock chimed midnight, and Tonks jumped. "I'm sorry Sirius –I'd like to stay and continue talking, but I've got a field job tomorrow, and I don't want to start it low on sleep."

He nodded. "See you around, then, I suppose. Sleep well, and good luck."

"Thanks," Tonks said, "you too. 'Night, Sirius." She stood and walked out. As she was fumbling with her cloak, she dropped her wand. Before she could pick it up, a hand reached down and handed it to her.

"I'm sorry if I startled you, Nym –Tonks," he hastily corrected himself. "But I was wondering if I could have a word?" He stood there somewhat awkwardly. _You idiot_, he chastised himself, _you don't ask someone for a favor after sneaking up on them. _

"It's no trouble at all, Remus," she assured him, "but I really do need to be heading home –will you walk with me?" He nodded, and grabbed his cloak, opening the door for her, and waving her ahead of him. There was a companionable silence for a few minutes before she spoke. "Alright, Remus, what's this about?"

He swallowed, hard, not wanting to ask this, but certain that it was the right thing to do. "It's Sirius. Being back in that house –well…" he shuddered. "As bad as it is for the rest of us, it's worse for him –he's surrounded at all times by things that do nothing but bring up horrible memories of his childhood. He's lonely, particularly now that the children have gone back to school, and it's never been in his nature to be inactive, and certainly not when those he cares about are in harm's way. Having you around –it's done him a world of good. You're around the same age he was when he went to Azkaban, and he's never had the chance to mature past that."

Tonks tilted her head and looked at him in confusion. "Remus, what's this about?"

Remus winced. He was fairly certain that she saw where this was going, but just didn't want to say it. "He's always been somewhat reckless. He's loyal to the people he cares about, and has always been disgusted when people let others people fight their battles for them without even trying to stand up for themselves."

She nodded. "I'd imagine that being locked up for twelve years because of someone ratting out his friends to save his own skin only exacerbated all of those traits."

"Precisely. And Severus's constant barbs about cowardice and hiding aren't helping –there are very few people who get under his skin that easily to begin with. And, well…" he trailed off.

"So, you want me to help Sirius," she said. "Are you saying that I should drug him or try to talk some sense into him? Because, I wouldn't do the first, and I'd probably fail at the second."

"No, Tonks, nothing like that." He was horrified by her suggestion, but reflecting back on what he'd said, he could understand how she'd come to that conclusion. "It's just that I'll be going away for a while soon, and I'm worried about Sirius being on his own in there –particularly when several days go by between Order meetings. He won't have company, he can't leave, the house is stuffed with dark magic –pretty much all he can do is destructive, which is never good, and he's not the sort to sit and read for fun –even if there _were_ books there that could be read just for entertainment, which as far as I've been able to tell, there aren't. So, if it's not too much trouble, I was wondering if you'd just stop by occasionally just to chat, or play cards, or anything really." He looked down, wondering what had possessed him to ask this. Tonks would almost certainly agree, but Sirius would be able to tell if she was only coming out of a sense of obligation.

"Of course I will," she began, "but I want to set a few things straight. I'm not agreeing because of it being a favor or because I feel that it's the right thing to do. I'm not saying yes because he's family or anything like that. It's because I consider him my friend, and I like spending time with him." Her mouth quirked in a wry smile. "Actually, I'd been about to ask the two of you if you'd mind if I moved in. I don't like the neighborhood my flat's in –and with a war coming, it's not going to get any better. Besides, I get the feeling that Sirius'll be a much more accommodating landlord –not charging me rent, letting me paint the walls in bright, obnoxious colors –he'd probably encourage that if I could make it work, actually. There's a bedroom in there that I've had my eye on for a while –it's got some interesting nooks and crannies."

"Really?" he asked hopefully. "You're sure?"

"'Course I'm sure. Was that it?"

"It - " he began "-actually, it isn't."

Tonks raised her eyebrows, but didn't say anything. "The – that story you told –at Christmas…" He struggled, trying to determine how best to ask this of her. "It gave me more hope than anything has in a while, Tonks, and I was thinking that maybe you could do the same thing for Sirius." To his utter befuddlement, she turned away from him. "Tonks?" he asked hesitantly. "I'm sorry if-" she looked back at him, and he realized with a jolt of horror that she was crying.

"Oh, Remus," she began, brokenly, "I wish I could. I really, really wish I could."

Unsure of what to do, he cautiously wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her face in his shoulder. "Tonks, what's wrong?"

She looked up, the tear tracks on her face catching the light and sparkling faintly. "I have a very hard time believing that he'll survive this war. I've been trying not to think about it, to picture a future for him, but all that comes to mind is him finally getting fed up with imprisonment and going out, and then getting either recaptured or killed. Or maybe he'll find out that someone's in danger, and he'll run out to save them without stopping to think of what that'll mean for him, or he will think about it, and he just won't give a damn, and it scares me, Remus. I don't want him to die, but I'd rather that than have him go back to Azkaban, and he would too, and I just don't know what to do."

Crying harder, she threw her arms around him. He froze, before hugging her tighter. She didn't seem to mind, he noted with a slight jolt. "Tonks," he began, before stopping short. He'd been about to reassure her, say that Sirius wasn't stupid, but he reasoned that in light of what he'd just been telling her, that he'd simply come off as patronizing at worst or a liar at best. Suddenly, a flash of inspiration hit him. "That's part of what we're all fighting to prevent. We're going to clear his name. And Sirius won't get himself killed, because then Harry will have to go back to his aunt and uncle, and I can't think of anyone who's happy with that arrangement."

She sniffed. "Thank you," she said. Her voice was still shaky, but he pretended not to notice. "I'm sorry for breaking down on you like that"

He stopped her before she could continue. "You've got nothing to apologize for. I'm sorry for upsetting you."

She gave him a watery smile. "Thank you, but it's not your fault. I'll try and come up with a story for him. In the meantime, I've got to get some sleep. Would you mind if I just apparated home? I don't feel much like walking at the moment."

"Not at all, Tonks. I hope to see you soon."

She grinned at him, and turned. He heard the pop as she disappeared and then turn to walk back to Grimmauld place, his mind reeling with what she'd just told him. Just as he put his hand on the doorknob, he was struck by a revelation. _She meant it. Every word of that story at Christmas was what seemed to her to be a reasonable future –for me. She won't? can't? tell one of those stories when she doesn't believe in it. Maybe she's_ –he cut himself off before he could finish that thought, but was too late to avoid the hope swelling inside him. _Sirius. Remember what she said about him_. But even the grim reminder of what seemed so likely to happen to his best friend couldn't kill that feeling of optimism entirely. "Thank you, Nymphadora Tonks," he whispered. Shaking his head at his own folly, he went inside, feeling like part of a burden, at least, had been lifted.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Firstly, here there be swearing. I tried to keep it as tame and as minimal as possible, but some of it stayed. I'm sorry if it offends anyone, and I assure you that I had no intention of doing so. Also, I'll almost definitely turn this story into an AU where Remus and Tonks survive the final battle. Should I split it earlier and let Sirius survive book 5? Please answer, and if you can provide reasoning behind your opinion, I'd really appreciate it. Thanks, and thanks for reading.

"Sirius?" The tall, wasted man heard a voice calling him, but decided to ignore it. He moodily picked up the firewhiskey bottle in front of him on the table and took another swig. He hated his house, and the long lonely days of waiting were hardly bearable when there was another human living with him. Now, stuck there alone with his best friend away on some mission or other ("I'm sorry I can't tell you the details, Sirius, but even if I could, I doubt it'd help"), he was on the verge of losing his mind. "Sirius!"

It was Tonks, naturally. He couldn't deny that some part of the darkness seemed to lift at her presence –at the idea of company –but he just couldn't deal with people at the moment. Remus, maybe –but they'd known each other since the age of eleven. They'd been friends for long enough –understood each other well enough that some days when the memory of Azkaban got to be too much, he could snap at or fall apart on Remus, and depend on his friend to help him patch himself back up, and he'd return the favor after a rough full moon. Tonks, though was a different story. They may have gotten on well, but it wasn't the same, and he couldn't explode at her –he just couldn't. She was still young, unscarred by trauma –_except, of course, the crap she went through when I was locked up _–he thought moodily, taking another swig, and she was all the family he had at the moment –another castoff of the Black family tree. He suddenly realized that _Tonks_ was here, and winced in preparation of the thud of her falling over that hideous umbrella stand and _god __damn__ it all_ his mother's screaming. "Bloody crazy bitch," he muttered, about to go help the auror out.

That was when she walked into the kitchen, of course. "Wotcher!" she said brightly. Of course she said it brightly. Everything about her was color and life and happiness, and as much as he sometimes appreciated it, right now it only served to irritate him further.

"Tonks, why are you here?" he asked wearily. Good. He sounded tired, worn, dead, but he wasn't swearing at her, and he wasn't so drunk yet that he'd be unable to control himself. Maybe this wouldn't be the disaster he'd been expecting. It wouldn't be pleasant, but with any luck, it wouldn't destroy their friendship completely.

"I need a reason to visit?" she asked. She'd said it lightly, flippantly, but he saw the flash of hesitation in her eyes. Tonks was young, and she was bubbly, but she wasn't stupid, he reminded himself, and clearly she could read people –could read _him_ –better than he'd realized.

"Not generally." He answered gruffly. She was quiet, maybe waiting for him to continue. He didn't, instead taking another drink and staring broodingly at nothing.

She didn't say anything; she simply walked over to the cupboard, took out a butterbeer, and sat down across from him. He broke the silence of course –he'd gotten more patient after spending over a decade waiting for a chance at revenge and explanation, but she was, among other things, a trained interrogator. "It doesn't stop," he said bluntly, suddenly. "The pain, the anger, the regret, the sorrow, the fear –it's all there. It's always with you. They don't let it stop. You can't be happy, or proud –in the good way not the –_this_" he waved a hand around, indicating the house around them "way. They won't let you. Everything that makes you okay, that makes you you –they feed on that, and they suck it away. Why?" he was breaking down now, almost in tears –he'd had more to drink than he realized. "Why won't it fucking go away?" He was barely getting the words out. Anger was still there, but so were fear and sadness. "I'm away from it all. But I'm stuck here in this god damn fucking _hellhole_, and I hate it. Can't they let me go somewhere? _Any_where? I can't stay here, I can't keep doing this, I just can't." That was when he broke down completely, and folding his arms on the table, he burrowed his head into them. Tonks didn't say anything –just walked over, and, sitting down next to him, tentatively rubbed his back in circles. She wanted to help him, but she had no idea what to do. Suddenly, Remus's words came back to her –_you could do the same thing for Sirius_. She waited, listening as her cousin's sobs quieted somewhat, until finally he was mostly just hiccupping. Continuing to rub his back, she began.

"Pettigrew was trying to run when the spell hit him, and he was discovered. Bellatrix died defending her master, also now dead. It's been several years since the war ended, and the gaping wounds that death and betrayal have left are healing into scars –always there, but no longer fresh and raw. Outside a small house, we see the proof of this –there are several small children running around throwing snowballs at each other with no fear at all, and a laughing young man with black hair and glasses is being dragged outside to join them. They are all laughing, shrieking, playing –their parents will join them outside shortly, as soon as they finish the cooking they'd been doing. A sharp crack sounds through the air, and the young man suddenly spins, alert, wand in hand looking for the source, accounting for the children, instinctively starting to herd them inside. Suddenly, a child's yell splits the air, 'Uncle Sir-yus'. The young man sees the motorcycle flying towards him and relaxes, although he retains his grip on his wand. At once the game stops and all the children are running towards the landing spot down the lane. Harry shakes his head with a smirk and walks after them, pocketing his wand.

When he reaches them, there's a tall man, also black-haired getting off the motorcycle. As soon as he has both feet on the ground, he's mobbed by the pack of children. They're all happy to see him, talking as fast as they can, babbling away excitedly. He smiles and responds to comments when he can, teasing and smiling. The children refuse to let him go to take his things out, instead dragging him up towards the house, so Harry brings the bike up for him. One of the children has run ahead to alert the parents who are watching them all for the day –it's become a tradition among the various members of the Weasley clan to trundle everyone over the age of three or so off to one house right before the holidays to get all the cleaning and cooking and secret present wrapping out of the way, and this year, it's the Lupins's turn, although Harry has come to help out. Remus is standing in the door laughing so hard he's crying as his best friend is led and shoved up the lane by at least a dozen children, one riding on his back, another on his shoulders, and the rest running around them, bouncing and laughing and chattering and ignoring absolutely everything else. Sirius pauses when he reaches the front door to put the kids he's holding down so they don't bump their heads on the lintel, but they are uncooperative and cling to him like barnacles.

It's Mrs. Lupin who eventually takes control, as Sirius is hopelessly outnumbered and Harry and Remus are laughing too hard to help him, not they would if they were able to. "Children." She says it sternly, but there's laughter behind it, and the kids all know it. "If you hurt Sirius too badly, he might not be willing to give you your presents." Those are, it seems, the magic words. Sirius is immediately released and borne into the living room. Before he knows it, he's sitting on the comfortable old sofa, surrounded by children –some on the floor, some next to him, some on the arms and back of the poor seat, and one managing to claim his lap. They know from experience that his trunks are heavy –too heavy, as yet, for them to carry, so Harry has been badgered into levitating them inside. 'Tell us a story, Uncle Sirius,' one of them demands, and the others instantly join in the ruckus. 'Story, story!' 'Did you see any dragons?' 'What about monsters?' 'What were the libraries like?' 'Idiot. He wouldn't go _libraries_, would you Uncle Sirius?' 'Or unicorns?' 'Is it true that you've been _every_where?' 'Where did you go this time?' 'Why do you go away so much? I like it when you're home.' 'Are giants and trolls like Hagrid says they are?' 'Do sphinxes wear clothes?' 'Uncle Ron said that acri- accer- acro- ack-ro-man-chu-las are real. Is that true?'

Finally he manages to calm them all down enough to start answering questions and telling of his latest adventures. Some of them are, of course, embellished to make for more entertaining listening and some are watered down a bit to keep from scaring the youngest ones or telling them things they're not supposed to know about yet, but most of them he tells as they happened. All the children are still and silent, watching him with starry eyes. They don't see their globe-trotting 'uncle' nearly often enough for their liking, and they all love hearing about his latest adventures –all of them exciting and interesting, many of them dangerous, and frequently with near escapes of disaster. If the adults think that perhaps he escapes death a little _too_ often, they keep it to themselves –some things are better with modifications. Eventually, his voice gets hoarse, which is of course the signal for '**PRESENTS!**' they scream as he reaches for one of his trunks. Since he's pinned down by children, one of the adults hands it to him –they've all been sitting there listening in, just as focused as the little ones. He starts taking out some of the trinkets he's picked up for this in particular –there are other things he plans to give as the official holiday presents, but he loves to spoil the kids –not that they mind very much –and this is as much a tradition as gathering at the Weasleys's for major dinners –they are all one giant clan, though not necessarily related closely or at all by blood.

After a light dinner, the children have all been sent home or off to bed, and Sirius sits at the table catching up with his old friend. 'Do you ever regret not picking a steady, solid career? You know you could have any job you want. The world's at your feet –maybe not as much as it was when we left school, but it still is.'

Sirius shakes his head. 'Maybe I would, if it hadn't been for, well…' he trails off, but his meaning is understood. 'I spent too much time locked up, too much time not seeing the sky, or the sun, or feeling the wind and rain. I sometimes go flying during storms just as a reminder that I can, that I'm not locked up anymore. I need that freedom, and I won't –I _can't_ give it up. I've got roots here, and I'll never abandon them, but I can't stay tied down myself. I love this life –I wouldn't trade it to be stuck behind a desk or talking to idiots selling them things all day. What about you? Do you ever-" he doesn't need to finish the question before his friend is shaking his head.

'I never had the wanderlust you did. My life right now is better than I could've hoped for, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.'

'Not even not having to deal with full moons?' The tone is light, but the question is not. This is a concern he's always had for his friend –that he will settle, not thinking himself able to do better.

To his surprise, Remus smiles. 'Not even that. Surrounded by kids –_my_ kids (Sirius can't help but smirk at the way his face always lights up when he says those words) it's, well, it's amazing. There's no way to describe it.' They sit in silence for a bit. 'How long are you staying for this time?'

Sirius grins at him. 'That'd ruin the surprise. One day here, next day gone. You may have settled down, but someone needs to keep you on your toes.'

'Yes, because there are absolutely _no_ surprises or worries when raising children.'

'Speaking of which, is it okay if I were to leave a pet here?' Seeing the instant amused worry, he hastens to add, 'it's not very big, and it shouldn't create much of a mess, and you don't need a license to own it.'

'Is it dangerous to children?'

'Possibly?' He looks at his friend pleadingly. 'I mean, probably not, if they treat it right although allergies might be a bit of an issue.'

'Let's see it then. That wasn't an agreement –I just want to have a look.'

Sirius grins, knowing that he has won, and pulls what seems to be a small scrap of fabric out of one of his pockets. 'What?'

'It's a kitten. You brought a –wait. _Why _do you have _kitten_ in your pocket? _How_ do you have a kitten in your pocket? What kind of weird joke is this? It's not even a kneazle kitten. Where did you find it?'

'There were some muggle boys that were 'playing' with the poor thing –it's a stray. It looked warm and fluffy, and I figured that you in particular could use an animal around the house. It can catch _raats_.' He's smirking. There is no way this kitten isn't going to live here permanently, and everyone present knows it, including, by the look of things, the cat, who has curled up on the table.

'It's probably not house trained, and it certainly has vermin. It's not staying here.'

'You've got a zillion kids who'll want to teach it tricks, and you know as well as I do that there are some very basic spells and potions to take care of that sort of problems. What do you want me to do, take it back? I don't know how long it'll last on its own, and it can't travel with me. Let the kids name it, make it their responsibility, and if you're nice to it, maybe it'll be able to keep you company when you're locked up.'

Remus rolls his eyes, and reaches out to let the kitten sniff his hand. It purrs, and then turns and hisses at him, snapping at his fingers. 'Yes. I can _certainly_ see that we'll be great friends.'

'That's the spirit!' Sirius chuckles and slaps him on the shoulder, before his face splits in a yawn. 'D'you mind if I head off to bed? It's been great talking with you, but I've done a fair bit of flying today, and I could use some rest.'

'We've got the room set up for you. We weren't sure just when you'd be coming in, though, so it might not be up to your _lofty_ standards.' Remus mock glares at him. Sirius, unsurprisingly, ignores it.

'It has windows?'

'Doesn't it always?'

'It's fine then. See you in the morning.' He heads upstairs. He's claimed the attic for whenever he stays there –there are some charms he's picked up to make the ceiling seem to disappear, and it's an airy room, with windows on all sides –most of them large enough for a rider on a broom. Before the kids were born, he'd sometimes fly in in the middle of the night, and surprise his friends by showing up at breakfast –or sometimes at lunch, but he has to admit, he likes the exuberant welcome from his nieces and nephews. Ordinarily, he keeps the windows open –although he usually has an impervious charm over them to keep out bugs, rain and heavy wind, but tonight, he decides, it's too cold –he'll be fine indoors. He notes some of his worst scars as he gets into his pajamas. Very few fighters get through wars unscathed, and he's fought in two. He's made up stories for some of the more visible ones when the kids have asked about them, although there are others where he simply changes the subject, and a few that he charms. They're too young, as yet, to know, but they're the symbol of hope, of victory, although he hopes to never have any of his own. Married life may suit his friends, but he's not the sort to settle down and stop adventuring. Or even settle down and continue adventuring.

Looking up at the starry ceiling, he starts identifying constellations –a childhood habit he's never been able to break, finishing with Sirius. He knows it's ridiculous, but he's always felt that the dog star is his in some way, and he likes having that feeling of heavenly kinship. Rolling himself up in his blankets, he falls asleep, secure in the knowledge that there is a tomorrow."

Sirius's sobbing has grown quieter as Tonks talks, and by the end, it is only his shoulders that are still heaving with sobs. Finally, he pulls himself together enough to look up and talk to her, although his speech is punctuated by inopportune hiccups. "It's not true, though. It's a wonderful story, and I _want_ it to happen. I _want_ Remus and Harry to settle down into nice, normal lives with packs of kids, so I can be the dashing, mysterious, travelling uncle. I _want_ to go exploring around the globe, and having adventures. I want that fucking evil rat DEAD, but none of it will happen, and we both know it."

Tonks is startled at how closely his speech mirrors her own opinions, but she keeps it to herself. What Sirius needs is freedom, but at the moment faith and friendship will have to suffice. "Then why did I say it? Sirius, I'll be honest. I don't like your chances for getting through this, but that's only because I don't know if you can keep your head. If you can be patient –and yes, I know it's killing you, but if you can be rational, you WILL survive this. Sirius, if you don't believe the people you're fighting with –the people you're fighting _for_ can or will win, then why fight? Sirius, nothing is worth fighting if you're only fighting against the inevitable."

It is now that it strikes him just how much Tonks has grown up. She right, of course. If you only fight to defeat or delay your enemy, what then? "Thank you," he manages.

She gets to her feet. "I couldn't have said it if I didn't believe it," helping him up, she continues, "but I think we both need sleep now. Are you sober enough to make it up the stairs? I can leave some hangover potion if you like –I usually carry some –and don't you _dare_ ask why."

He shakes his head. "I can manage, but don't bother with the potion. I'll have had worse –you got here fairly early." He smirks before adding. "And I promise not to tease you about the hangover potion that I'm _sure_ you carry for aurorly duties only." They're at the door now, him inside, her outside. Just as she's turning to disapparate, he grins wickedly and adds "_yet_."

Her undoubtedly foul-mouthed reply is lost in the pop of her disappearance and the slam of the heavy door. He smiles wryly and goes upstairs. Passing the mirror, he takes note of his reflection. A shave and a haircut probably wouldn't be a bad idea, and maybe he can fix up the house a bit –take care of some of the still inhospitable rooms. He needs to keep busy, after all, and while housework's certainly not something he enjoys, he can't deny that it takes up time –something he has far too much of right now. Getting into bed, he whispers the charm that makes the stars show up above his head _how did she know?_ Before beginning his map and his search for Sirius. He'll have to ask Tonks how she knows about that habit of his _and grill her about that hangover potion, of course_.Exhausted, physically and emotionally, he sleeps, and dreams of the laughter of children.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: I'm sorry that it took so long for this update. I'll try to have at least two of Remus's stories up before finals.

* * *

><p>When Remus had entered number 12, Grimmauld Place a few minutes earlier, all he could think about was a warm bath, a long rest, and something to eat. Now creature comforts were the last things on his mind, as he struggled to place the alien sound he'd heard moments after he'd taken his cloak off.<p>

Though not particularly threatening, whatever it was he'd heard didn't fit –had no place being there, and he cautiously went in search of it, taking care to make as little sound as possible. He was approaching the drawing room when he heard it again, although this time he was close enough to the sound to place it as laughter. Looking around the door, he was thoroughly taken aback to see Tonks there with Sirius.

"Then what happened?" she begged, tears of mirth streaming down her face.

"Well," Sirius continued, smirking, "let's just say that cat animagi have _very_ interesting reactions to catnip."

Remus couldn't resist a chuckle himself as he remembered the story Sirius was telling. He still doubted that Minerva had forgiven them for that prank. _Then again_, he mused, _she seemed to get over quite a few things we did_.

"You _didn't_!" Tonks exclaimed.

Sirius's grin stretched.

"You _did_? How… What…" her voice trailed off as she searched for words "Teach me, oh master of pranking. I grovel at your feet."

"Well, my young disciple," Sirius began, "the first lesson in being a successful prankster is-"

"-to never let someone –particularly not a _teacher_ overhear your pranking plans." Remus cut in, stepping into the room, his earlier exhaustion forgotten. He wasn't even fully through the door when Tonks' stunner caught him.

_**THUD**_

"Remus, I'm so sorry," Tonks cried, running over to him. "I hadn't heard you coming, and if I'd known it was you I wouldn't have, oh shit, Remus, are you alright? _Ennervate_."

_Never sneak up on an auror_, he reminded himself ruefully, sitting up and rubbing his head. "Bloody hell, Nym-_Tonk_-" he hastily corrected himself. "Remind me to never surprise you again."

"I'm so sorry, Remus, I just heard someone, and I forgot that this is a protected house and –Sirius, stop _laughing_."

"Well, it seems that two of my pupils have both learned very valuable lessons, haven't you?"

_I am going to kill him_, Remus thought, glowering at his old friend. _It will be slow, and painful, and I will enjoy every goddamn second of him begging for mercy._ "It's quite alright, Tonks. I just surprised you, and you reacted the way you've been trained. Alastor would be proud of you."

"Will be, Remus." Sirius cut in. "Mad-Eye _will_ be proud of Tonks."

They both turned and looked at him quizzically.

"Remus, she managed to surprise and stun _you_. I'm never letting either of you live this down. And if the best way to do that just _happens_ to involve mentioning it over tea at the next meeting, then so much the better."

"Sirius," Tonks groaned.

"Tonks, you are my little cousin, and that means that I have the right, no, the _duty_ to boast of your accomplishments. I have taught you well, young grasshopper. You, though," he said, turning to Remus, "I expected better of. Trying to sneak up not only on me, but on a _law enforcement official_. Have you forgotten everything I taught you?"

"Everything _you_ taught _me_?" Remus cried in mock outrage. "I was the mastermind behind most of our best pranks. Every time we didn't get caught it was because of me!"

"-Or James' invisibility cloak," Sirius cut in.

"-Or James' invisibility cloak," Remus acknowledged with a nod. "The map was my idea, and I figured out half the spellwork! If anything, _I _taught _you_ about pranking!"

"If that's the case, then it _is_ your fault we were uncontrollable and you're one of the worst prefects in recent Hogwarts history," Sirius crowed in triumph. "And what do you mean, our best pranks were your idea? You were usually the one trying to talk us _out_ of our pranks. And the map certainly wasn't your idea, because it was the best idea that-" he stopped, eyes flashing dangerously.

Tonks had been watching in fascination as this argument went on. She had known about the Marauders from the time she was a little girl, and Sirius had told her that Remus had been very different when he was younger, but this was the first time she'd seen the prankster break through the outer shell of shy, proper gentleman. She would have been delighted to let them carry on all night, but the sudden silence caused her to realize that somehow, dangerous territory had been broken, and that someone would need to act as peacemaker before Sirius went on a rampage.

"Would anyone be interested in some hot cocoa? I've got marshmallows, and Molly said that there was leftover whipped cream."

It was amazing, she thought five minutes later, as they sat in the kitchen waiting for the milk to boil, just how easily two adult men could be distracted with promises of sugar.

"So, Sirius, do you have any more interesting stories about your time at school? Other terrorized teachers, harassed students, destroyed property? Something tells me that there's no way you could have told me even half of what you got up to yet."

"Well," Sirius began, grinning wickedly, "there was this really obnoxious girl named Linda C-"

"_Sirius!_"

"What? Tonks asked me for more interesting stories. As I recall, that one was one of _your_ brilliant ideas."

"You are not telling _that_ story to a lady. Particularly not around food. It's disgusting. Have you no sense of propriety?"

"No, as a matter of fact, I _haven't_." Sirius looked insufferably smug. "So as I was saying, Linda was"

"_Sirius!_"

"Oh, Merlin's balls, Remus, who put the stick up your ass? This one's _funny_."

Remus grimaced. "No. Not that story. Not now. Please, Sirius. For me?"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Fine, Moony. Just for you." Turning to Tonks, his smile widened further. "So, when we were in our fourth year, there was this prefect named Oli-"

"_Sirius!_"

"_Remus!"_

"Hot chocolate's ready," Tonks interrupted. "And I'm ready to bet that neither one of you will be able to guess exactly what I put in it."

Sirius, who had been about to take a swig, paused and looked at his mug suspiciously. "Will it make me wish I hadn't drunk it?" he asked.

"Do you have any food allergies?"

"No."

"Then you should be safe," Tonks said.

"Just in case, I'm taking this upstairs. G'night, you two." Levitating his mug in front of him, Sirius walked out of the room.

"Oh, and Remus?" he called, sticking his head back through the doorway. Remus raised one eyebrow quizzically. "Nifflers. Amos Diggory."

Laughing, Sirius ducked back before Remus could throw anything at him.

Turning back to the table, Remus realized that Tonks was looking at him expectantly. _Crap_. Hoping that he could play it off, he picked up his mug and took a careful sip. His eyes went wide. "Tonks, this is _incredible_. What's your recipe?"

"Thank you, Remus." Tonks smiled at him. _She looks so happy when she smiles. _"Tell you what. I'll trade ingredients and quantities for stories." The smile had turned into a smirk. "Why don't you start with Linda Whatever-her-name-was?"

Remus closed his eyes and groaned, thunking his head against the table. "That story should never be _mentioned_ in polite company, let alone told. What if I gave you some embarrassing stories about Sirius instead?"

"Anything I can't get him to spill on his own when he's drunk?" Tonks asked hopefully.

Remus hesitated. "Erm, probably not. He's always been able to laugh at himself, and pretty much anything I'd tell you is far enough in the past that it wouldn't bother him."

"Hmmmmm." Tonks looked remarkably unimpressed for a moment, and then inspiration hit. "What about embarrassing stories about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. I know you must've gotten up to quite a bit yourself, and it'll be fun to watch you squirm."

Remus hesitated again. "I've spent over a decade trying to distance myself from all of that, Tonks."

"You'll never be able to fully get away from it, though." Her eyes sparkled mischievously. "Would you like a refill?"

She was directing the steam from the still-simmering pot directly at him with her wand, and he couldn't resist.

"Three stories. All of them squirm-worthy, and all of them with some information about either Sirius or myself that we wouldn't like divulged. In exchange, I ask for your recipe and either one entertaining story from your time at Hogwarts, or two from before you started school."

Tonks looked at him, surprised. "Under those terms, I get to withhold one ingredient."

Remus thought it over. "You have a bargain," he said. "Now, how about that refill?"


	5. Chapter 5

"Sooooooo…" Tonks drawled, as Remus drained his cup again. "You promised stories…"

"Right, er… stories…" Remus thought for a bit. "Well… oh! Did you know that your big, bad cousin is afraid of stuffed animals?"

Tonks looked at him, eyes narrowed. "You're fucking with me," she said flatly.

"No, I swear!" Remus exclaimed. "It's partially my fault, which is why I'm mentioning it."

"Go on," she said skeptically.

"Well, when we were in our third year, most of the younger girls had decided that, in order to prove that they were liberated women, it was their job to let anyone they were interested in know that they had a chance. They couldn't ask them out, of course –that would have made it easier for us to know what was going on inside their heads," he added indignantly.

Tonks smirked. "Remus, if men were perceptive enough to know what women actually thought, you'd be too nervous to ever get lucky."

He tilted his head and looked at her. "That's probably true. At any rate, somehow, sending stuffed animals as tokens of affection or attraction or whatever it was they were supposed to mean –Heaven forbid they actually _explain_ or _sign_ anything –became 'the thing to do'."

Tonks grinned, beginning to see where this was going.

"Well, Sirius was always something of a flirt, and he was, so I'm told, very attractive, and our dorm was always getting flooded with the damn things. James ended up with several himself –although not nearly as many, which I'm fairly certain did no small amount of damage to his pride."

"Do you really expect me to believe that you didn't have a fair few admirers yourself?" Tonks asked, one eyebrow arched.

Remus looked away, his cheeks slightly pink. "I, ahm, may have received one or two as some sort of jest."

Tonks's eyebrow arched higher.

Remus did his best to ignore her teasing expression. "The main problem with the stuffed animals wasn't the amount of space they took up –although because Peter and I both had horrible dust allergies, the sheer numbers were a bit daunting –it was the fact that some of them were charmed to recite or sing the most _awful_ poems."

"D'you remember any of them?"

"Yes, and there is no chance I will recite any of them where there's a chance Sirius could intentionally misconstrue it to be coming from me. Do you want to hear this story or not?"

Tonks closed her mouth and mimed turning a key.

Remus chuckled, before continuing. "Sirius viewed the stuffed animals as trophies, and flat out refused to get rid of any of them. He had them all lined up in a cabinet across the room from his bed, and he knew exactly which one was which and when he'd gotten it –not that he'd ever admit any of that."

Remus was quiet for a minute, remembering, before shaking himself out of his reverie. "After a few weeks of them piling up on every available surface Sirius could claim, and Peter and me constantly sneezing and blowing our noses, James had had enough. He recruited us for help looking up animation spells in the library. Within three days, we'd found all the spells he needed. I will never learn how he got Peeves and at least one of the ghosts to help him with his plan –he took those secrets to his grave, but somehow he did."

By this point, Tonks was already giggling in anticipation, and shaking from the effort of keeping in her laughter.

"That night, everything was normal when Sirius went to bed. But around three in the morning, he was woken up by the chill of one of the ghosts passing through him –just visible enough to make things even creepier. He was about to go back to sleep, when a weight landed on his feet, and a pair of glowing eyes looked right at him. Terrified, he raised his gaze to see the entire army of stuffed animals advancing on him, eyes glowing red. They were totally silent –everything was, when suddenly, Peeves's voice started hissing at him from them. The whispers were totally unintelligible, but they kept on coming, and then the ghost flew through him again, and that was when Sirius decided he'd had enough."

Tonks was laughing even harder now, but Remus wasn't finished.

"He woke up almost half of Gryffindor tower when he yelled. Of course, since we were in the same dorm, none of us could pretend to have slept through that, so when everyone ran in, we were clustered around him, asking what was wrong, why he was screaming, what the hell he thought he was doing. In a stroke of genius, James had had the stuffed animals go back to their normal places when we rushed over, but Sirius hadn't seen them move. He kept babbling about 'the evil demon teddy bears.' Of course, we feigned confusion, and finally the sixth year prefect –Erik Johnson, I think his name was –yelled at him, "You bloody idiot, if you're so damn afraid of the fucking things, then why the hell do you have so many stashed **RIGHT ACROSS FROM YOUR GODDAMN BED**?" He then went off, shooing everyone else back to bed, muttering things like 'stupid git,' 'not a lick of sense', 'how could anyone be that witless'. Everyone else drifted back off to bed, and by the next evening, all of Sirius's trophies were gone –we never saw them again, and I still don't know what he did with them. James threw a teddy bear at him about a week later, and I saw a look of blind panic cross his face before he hit it with an incendiary spell."

Tonks was rapidly turning the color of a ripe strawberry, she was laughing so hard. Tears of mirth rolled down her cheeks. "If only…" she gasped "the …Ministry knew…."

It took Remus a few seconds to grasp her meaning before he started laughing along with her. "If you see notorious mass-murderer Sirius Black, threaten him with a nearby teddy, then run while he shrieks in fear."

They kept laughing for a few more minutes, until Tonks finally brought herself more or less under control.

"That's one story, Professor, and I'll admit that it was a pretty good one. But was it your only one?" She looked at him, a challenge gleaming in her eyes. "Or will you not be earning my recipe after all?"

Remus felt the marauder sparking back to life inside himself. "Well," he began, "how much do you know about Lily Evans?"


End file.
